


River Water

by cecilantro



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Molly and his clothes are the wrong, uncomfortable kind of wet, cold, damp.Time for Caleb to step in.





	River Water

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 9x16!
> 
> Also known as another fic where i push out my "molly is cold, caleb is warm" and see if y'all are into it ;3c

They settle down in camp and eat the last of their weird, dry meat rations. The only light comes from the glowing rock that Beau had punched straight out of its cage, and the stump of the torch that remains, low light casting across the circle of weary, day-trodden travellers.   
Molly keeps them cheerful with jovial jabs at Beau, self deprecating jokes, and general uplifting attitude, and he tries, so hard, but he’s also shivering with the breeze floating through and the fact he’s soaking wet, Fjord doesn’t seem to be suffering so much, the sailor in him buffing out the chill of the water.    
Caleb moves over to sit with Molly, takes off his own coat, and drapes it around Molly’s shoulders as he comes up behind him. Molly gives a startled, cat-like noise, sits up a little straighter and turns, but pulls Caleb’s coat around him a little tighter. His own is still damp, currently spread on the least ashy bit of floor to dry out.   
His white shirt turns translucent, sticking to him in places and showing off the tattoos that would usually be invisible even with the open neckline. He’s considered taking it off, and maybe he should, now that there’s drier fabric over the top.   
Caleb barters with Yasha for a spare torch, and moves back to Molly just in time to catch him peeling his shirt off and tossing it to the side, it lays in a sodden heap on the floor and Caleb’s step stutters. Molly shirtless isn’t a new sight, it’s not as though there’s a lot of fabric to the shirt in the first place but… attractive shirtless people, generally, cause a brief shock in the eye of the beholder.   
Caleb turns his attention to the torch and swirls his finger around in a spiral, Molly watches him whisper a quick incantation and point to the top and  _ fwoosh _ , it lights up. He makes his way to sit beside Molly, close enough to press the length of their thighs together, and holds the torch in the space ahead of and between them. The fire is warm, and Molly’s shivers begin to subside.   
“That was some impressive control.” Molly says, tilting his head as though he wants to rest it on Caleb’s shoulder. His hair is still soaked, and he refrains.   
Caleb pushes his fingers through Molly’s hair, combing out the snares whilst it’s still damp, wordless for a long while.   
“I did not want to risk burning you.” he says, eventually, his eyes focused very intently on the single grid chain still looped around Molly’s horn, and he presses the torch into Molly’s hands to carefully unclip and free it, drops it into Molly’s palm as he takes the torch back.   
Molly keeps his hand on it.   
Caleb settles his fingers over Molly’s.

They know from experience that Caleb, in general, is far warmer than Molly is, wizard benefits, as long as there’s still magic in him, he can stay warm all night. Right now, he’s on the cooler side, tapped out from all of the battles, but still, much, much warmer than Molly.   
Molly is  _ icy _ , his fingertips are going numb and Caleb’s warmth over the top is a gift that restores feeling, at least to one hand, the other throws the chain to Yasha. She catches it without really looking, tucks it in a pocket, he trusts her with his shit so explicitly that she doesn’t need to question it anymore. Just… deals with Beau as the exhausted monk tries to apologise without saying  _ sorry _ , for the attacks during the battle with Sif, for forcing her to pass out in order not to kill her.   
That, Yasha points out, is Molly’s fault.   
Beau agrees readily, but continues to wheel her way into an elaborate way of saying she’s sorry.   
“Your hands are cold?” Caleb asks when he doesn’t need to, he can feel Molly’s fingers under his palm, and Molly gives a hum that generally means  _ yes _ . Caleb gives a slightly harder breath than usual, something like a laugh, Molly feels it against his ear. Caleb is very close.   
There’s a knee jabbing him suddenly, Caleb pulls his leg up to rest mostly over Molly’s.   
“I’m warm. Fill up.”   
Molly, tentatively, puts his hand to Caleb’s thigh, scooches toward the warmest, flattest plane and settles there.   
Caleb works his way through Molly’s hair, even when he has to stretch, and by the time he’s combed carefully through it all, it’s gone from soaking wet to just about damp. The teasing and the close firelight help to pull the moisture away, and when Caleb’s hand drops, so does Molly’s head, straight to Caleb’s shoulder with only a little  _ owch _ of horn hitting collarbone and slipping off again.   
“You are not going far tonight,  _ ja _ ?” Caleb asks, quiet for the proximity, and Molly hums to fill the silence as he thinks about it. It would be  _ better _ , he supposes, not to get too cuddly with Caleb. Jester will definitely talk.    
And the caution thrown to the wind is fucked as he sighs, “No, I’m not.”   
Caleb snakes an arm under the coat, around Molly’s waist, presses his whole hand to bare skin and breathes deep to calm his pulse.   
“Good.” Caleb murmurs, he feels Molly’s fingers going loose under his on the torch, “Nor will I. But momentarily,” And he draws away, takes the torch with him and swaps it out in the makeshift holder in the middle, for the ashen stump that is the remainder of the last torch.   
“Goodnight, Caleb.” Yasha locks her eyes to him as he comes close, and he reaches out to grasp her hand briefly as he passes on his way back.   
“Goodnight.”   
Beau is already asleep, head on Yasha’s thigh, it looks like she collapsed mid-sentence and for Beau it wouldn’t be unusual. Jester is curled to her other side, already asleep, then Fjord, then Nott, Caleb’s bedroll is set up beside hers and Molly has moved to pull his up alongside Caleb’s, shivering despite the coat.   
“Get into mine.” Caleb commands, but it’s gentle, “I will sort everything out.”   
Molly wants to argue. Really, he does. But he’s tired and he hurts a lot, and he’s  _ cold _ . A will-o-wisp went right through his  _ chest _ , for the love of the Gods. It still feels hollow, there. Maybe it always did.   
He buries down and lets Caleb fuss around him, waits patiently with his eyes trained on the wizard. Finally, Caleb finishes his tedious work and settles down beside Molly, managing to pull the blankets together to make room for them both, and holds up an arm. Molly wastes no more time, sidles up tight and winds himself as thoroughly around Caleb as he possibly can, there’s one leg jammed between Caleb’s, Molly’s tail is wound around the top thigh, he’s tucked under Caleb’s chin with one arm over Caleb’s side and pressed up his back, the other pinned between them, he laces his fingers between Caleb’s and takes a quick break to press a kiss to his knuckles.   
“Caleb Widogast, you are a gift from the Gods.”   
Caleb gives the same hard exhale of a laugh, warm breath blowing across the top of Molly’s head.   
“I am not the beautiful one, Mollymauk, nor do I get my powers from one higher than myself. I just  _ am _ .”   
Molly is silent for a few long seconds.   
“Those are problems we are going to address in the morning.” He says eventually, firmly, and nestles a little closer to Caleb’s neck, presses a kiss there too, “For now, let’s just say that I love you, and thank you.”   
Caleb stills like he wasn’t expecting it. Or maybe he genuinely wasn’t, he can’t tell, anymore, which is wishful thinking and which is realistic circumstance.   
“Is that okay?” Molly pulls away from him a little, so his words are clearer, and Caleb swallows hard so that he can speak.   
“ _ Ja _ .” he manages, and stills his voice before talking again by kissing Molly’s forehead, “It is fine.”   
Molly stretches hard to lean up the extra few inches, cranes, and just about manages to catch Caleb’s lips in a brief kiss.   
“Time for that later.” He hums when he pulls himself back down and nestles up to Caleb once more. Caleb presses his chin to the top of Molly’s head.   
“With any luck.” he agrees, “There will be.”


End file.
